Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements. I've always liked massage, especially the sensuous kind. Stroke and caress me and I'm like putty. I had found that the massage part of the activities at massage parlors was lots of fun for me, perhaps more so that the so-called happy ending part.
The sexual part always seemed so much like a business transaction. It felt like a contest between seeing how fast the provider could make me finish, and how long I could hold out.
I once even gave a massage gal some extra cash just to continue the stroking and caressing instead of stroking my johnson. I found myself in New York City once with a desire for something sensual. I found a listing in a local rag and called to make an appointment. When I got there we went through the usual preliminaries. Once I was naked and waiting on a table, Margaret, the "massage therapist" came in, introduced herself, and began massaging my front, which was somewhat unusual.
Typically in these places, they massage your back lightly, turn you over, massage your front until they get to your privates. They try to get you all worked up, and then offer you the menu of "other services. This gal began by massaging my chest from above my head.
As she brushed my nipples, a shock coursed through me and she noticed me shiver. She proceeded to massage my pecs, but she then made it a point to come in contact with my nipples, until she finally placed the balls of her index fingers right on them and rotated them a bit. They responded quickly and became hard little nubs. She then grasped them between her fingers and thumbs and as she did, she could see the towel that was draped over my middle began to tent.
